


Beginnings

by MythopoeticReality



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 14:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythopoeticReality/pseuds/MythopoeticReality
Summary: The first meeting of a Magician and his apprentice.





	Beginnings

Sunlight. Catherine frowned, staring out the window, her eyes narrowing. Brilliant, blindingly bright afternoon sunlight catching off of the white towers and walls of the courtyard outside, and green turf being crushed beneath people’s feet as they darted back and forth calling to one another. She shuffled onto her knees, pulling herself up to the sill. If she reached, just  _stretched_ …There! The tips of her fingers just touched the latch enough that she could push it up. She cracked the window open. And there it was! Yes, she could smell warm stone and sweet grass and horse and sheep and all those other daytime scents.

Her frown deepened. It all made sence, of course, she thought as she slid back down to the floor again, turning her back on the window. They had arrived, her family and herself, no more than  a few hours ago, and it had been daylight. She had just slipped away from her father and mother, and it had been daylight. Only moments ago, when she’d been standing outside this room,  _it had been daylight._

A sharp sigh escaped her, sounding all the louder in the heavy silence of the room. Floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she paced a step back, then turned.  She stared at the ground, crossing her arms, then sighed again. Across all of England, she was sure, every person and every  _place_ were in agreement: It was  _day._  All of England that was, save for this singular room.

The patch of light that filtered through the window was pale and cold, silvery in color against the black void of the floor. Catherine knelt down, waving a hand and watching her shadow follow her movements. “Hrmmm…” She sat up, glancing around.

The room itself seemed to be made of nothing but silhouettes and shadows, cut out in silver: walls and floors, the chests and bookcases, the fireplace on the far wall and the silver basin set in a place of honor upon the desk. Catherine shivered, a chill raising bumps across her arms as she pushed herself to her feet. She felt, if she just listened hear enough, that somewhere on the edge of her hearing she would hear the chirping of crickets.

It wasn’t crickets that reached her ears and pulled her from her thoughts, however, but  _voices._ Footsteps, drifting down the corridor, coming this way. Oh…oh,  _no._ Catherine froze, feeling her throat draw. She was not supposed to be here, she was not supposed to be here at all… She stumbled back, eyes darting across the room for somewhere to hide.

“….And really, John, I do have to wonder to what purpose you intend –” Light flooded into the room, framing the two men who stood there. They froze, the one who was speaking fell silent, turned and blinked at Catherine.Catherine blinked back at him.

A moment passed where the man merely sighed and shook his head. Though built like a knight, there was nothing he reminded Catherine so much of as one of her tutors. He was holding a candlestick, and he ran his free hand up through his mousey brown hair. From the look of things he did that often. Turning back to his companion, his brows climbed up his forehead as if somehow blaming the other man for her presence.

The other man – oh, God above! –  _The Raven King_ , for who else could he  _be?_  Willow-reed slender and pale and tall, all dark hair and sharply carved featues and handsomeness. He looked just like the statues on the city steets, He looked just like the stories said, down to the boots of soft black leather.

The Raven King’s gaze scanned over Catherine for a moment, in a way that made her heart thud, and felt as if he were looking  _through_  her, rather than at her, into her mind and into her soul. Then he shrugged, waving his companion – servant? – after him.

Catherine backed out of his way, her eyes never leaving him.

“Place it on the desk, William.” The Raven King murmured, sweeping past her, towards a silver-framed mirror hanging on the wall. His lips pressed together and his eyes narrowed  as he ran his hand along the edge of the glass.

Then he turned, glancing over his shoulder at Catherine. Another long pause as he looked at her in that way of his again. He turned more fully to face her, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Where did you come from, then?”

Catherine felt her face color, despite herself, and found herself greatful it _was_  so dark. Shuffling from foot to foot, she glanced for a moment over back towards the door. “Ummm…Winchester?” She ventured, turning her eyes back up towards the King.

“Ah, she’s a bold one _.”_  The servant – William – said, standing in the candlelight. Catherine glanced back towards him, and he bowed his head towards her.

Even the corner of the Raven King’s lips twitched upwards. “You came a rather long way.” He drawled, “How did you get in  _here?”_

“The door was opened.” She said, pausing a moment, before adding, “It’s night in here.” as though that should somehow exonerate her.

That was met with another shrug. Another silence as the Raven King eyed her for a bit longer, and then, with a whimsical suddenness, he turned away, pacing back towards the desk and William.  “Tell me, Catherine of Winchester.” He said, “What is it that brings you all the way to Newcastle?”

Under the combined gazes of both men, she felt the urge to shift from foot to foot again. No. She was better than  _that._ She was twelve years old and soon to be apprenticed to a magician  _herself._  She was not afraid, and if she was, she would not show it. Taking in a deep breath she straightened her back and steadied herself. “My father saw I had magical talent. He wants to apprentice me to a magician he knows here…a, a member of your court, Your Majesty.”

That did not quite seem to settle them. The Raven King’s brows shot up, as though prompting her on, and William was muttering something that sounded like, “ _And there are no Magicians in the south?”_   

“No…no one will take me at home, sir. Not after my last tutor, he…” Catherine pressed her lips together, and absently reached back and tugged at her hair, “He was moving too slowly for my tastes and I was getting on in my studies well enough without him you see…he was more of a distraction than anything…umm….” She sighed, “He became lost. In a labyrinth I’d made of my father’s house.” a pause before she quickly added, “He  _did_  find his way out.  _Eventually…_ ”

The two men shared a look.

“Did you, now?”

Catherine nodded.

“John…” There was a warning in William’s tone, but The Raven King merely reached back, pulling out a chair from beneath the desk and dropped himself down onto it.

There was a glint in The King’s eye as he turned back towards his servant. Something in his look that Catherine recognized from the way she acted towards her tutors. Like he was daring the other man to go on.

When Wiliam said nothing more (beyond an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes) The Raven King turned back to her.

“Show me.”

Catherine’s heart stopped for an instant.“Pardon?”

“Let me see what you can do, Catherine of Winchester.”

And what else was she to do? The Magician King of Northern England was standing before her, asking  _her_ to preform some magic for  _him._ As her eyes scanned the room she felt almost as though she were watching herself from a distance. Her skin was buzzing and she felt lightheaded. Finally her eyes landed back upon the Mirror.

She sliped infront of it, waving for the King’s attention (Though in truth, she had no need to, she could feel his gaze intent and focused, upon her even as her back was turned). Standing there, Catherine took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. She pressed the tips of her fingers against the glass. The moments passed. And then something shifted, the air changed, as it had when she’d opened the window letting in the sweet air from outside.

Catherine opened her eyes, and grinning she stepped back, gesturing towards the mirror.

Her refection turned, and curtsied to the King.

The Raven King nodded, his expression unreadable. He stood then, and it was William who spoke next, clearing his throat.

“My lord,” He said, “We should probably find the girl’s parents, yes?”

“Hrmm?” the Raven King glanced back,  gave a vauge nod, and gestured for Catherine to follow.

In a daze, unsure,  _exactly_  of what just was happening, Catherine did all she could do and followed along.

“Who was the Magician you were to be apprenticed to?” It was William who asked this as he walked along beside the other two. Catherine glanced up at him, her brows drawing together.

“Thomas of Manchester.” she said. “Why?”

“Because,” William said, casting a glance back over to his King, “I have a feeling he is about to learn very soon that his apprentice has been stolen away from him.”


End file.
